The Edge Rules (The Rules Series Book 3)

by Melanie Hooyenga

  His eyes twinkle. “Yeah.” He hops backwards, then spins around and looks at me over his shoulder. “Like this.” He points his board at an angle and glides across the hill, then shifts his weight and crosses the other way with his opposite foot leading. He stops and smiles up at me.

  “Oh sure, just like that.” I take a deep breath and take a tiny hop, turning my board the same direction he did. I start moving slowly, tilting back to keep from going too fast. My arms go out on their own to help my balance. When I reach the spot where he changed directions, I shift my weight like he did, but it doesn’t go as smoothly. My back edge catches and I land on my ass. Hard. But I’m still facing forward so I push to my feet and point myself in his direction. I wobble a little but stay on my feet—and slam right into him. His arms wrap around me, slowing me down, but my momentum is too much and he falls backwards. The next thing I know I’m lying on top of him, his arms around my waist and every inch of our bodies pressed together.

  “Sorry!” I say at the same time he says, “That was great!”

  As much as I’m enjoying the feel of him trapped beneath me, I roll uphill and prop myself on an elbow. “I’m two for two on spectacular crashes.”

  “That was pretty spectacular,” he says. He stares into my eyes, and kill me now because his tongue slides across his lower lip and it’s all I can do to keep from leaning in and kissing him. “Just keep doing that.”

  “The boarding, or knocking you over?”

  He shrugs, and I sit up before I get sucked in any deeper. It’s one thing to have fun with him, but this can’t go anywhere.

  And maybe if I keep reminding myself I’ll start to believe it.

  *****

  Xavier turns out to be a pretty good cheerleader. His face lights up after each of my mini-runs and when I reach where he’s waiting, he gives me tips on how to improve. Apparently I need to get over my love of facing directly downhill and become one with being sideways. But I make it down the hill without any more faceplants—just countless falls on my butt—and when I reach the bottom, I’m ready for a break.

  “Just a quick drink of water,” I tell him when his eyebrows crease. “I don’t need a break after every run.”

  “You’ve earned it.”

  We lean our boards against a communal rack outside the lodge and I’m amazed again at how comfortable the boots are. “I think more skiers might convert if you shoved their feet into these,” I say as he opens the door. He holds it open and gives me a soft smile when I pass him.

  “You saying you’re ready to convert?”

  “Not yet, but it’s not as bad as I expected.”

  He laughs a full, deep laugh that makes me want to bust out every joke I know. “Water fountain’s over by the bathrooms, unless you wanted a bottle.” His eyes drift across the room of half-full tables to the cash register, where the line is twenty people deep.

  “Water fountain is fine. Be right back.” I head in the direction he pointed and take a quick drink, then duck into the bathroom since I’m right here. When I’m washing my hands, I’m surprised at how pink my cheeks are. And not the garish red like when I’m embarrassed. This is a rosy, I’ve-been-exercising-and-having-fun-outdoors color and it’s more flattering than any makeup.

  I take another longer drink when I’m done, but Xavier’s not there. I peek around the corner to the dining room and spot him talking to a girl with long red curls wearing an all-gray snowboarding outfit. Jealousy takes hold fast. My jaw clenches, my eyes narrow, and I feel like I could rip her head from her neck if I had to.

  But I don’t do any of that. He doesn’t know that side of me and as much as I want to walk up and slide my arm through his, claiming him as mine, he’s not mine. Not that that’s ever stopped me before. But he’s different, and I don’t think he’d get off on two girls fighting over him.

  The girl points at her leg several times and a look of horror darkens his face. Then he sees me and that beautiful smile is back. He says something and the girl turns and my stomach drops.

  I know her.

  She’s friends with Cally and not only did I spread rumors about her and Cally kissing—they DID kiss, but it wasn’t mutual—I was so horrible to her at Cally’s party that she left early. That was the night Cally revolted against the Snow Bunnies with a huge screaming fight, and the same night I took her dad’s brewery notebook. The night everything started to change.

  Based on the way Redhead’s smile turns into a glare, she remembers me too.

  She recovers more quickly than I do. Her eyes narrow and her face pales, but her jaw stays clenched. Then she smiles, shakes her head at Xavier, and fist bumps his shoulder before heading back to her table.

  She could have destroyed any chance I have with him—and rightly so—but she didn’t.

  Why?

  Sitting at a table with her friends, she looks no different from anyone else here, so why was I so hell-bent on treating her like crap? One of her friends reminds me a little of Drea and I feel sick. Never in a million years did I think I’d make friends with the Chain Gang crew, yet the two people I’ve talked to the most in the past twenty-four hours—heck, the past week—are both from there.

  Maybe I’ve been too quick to judge other people, too.

  Girls’ heads turn as Xavier walks my way, their gazes flitting from him to me and back to him, but I’m too anxious for my usual antics. If I ever caught girls checking out Austin, I’d make a big show of touching him, smiling and laughing and sometimes even kissing him to make it clear he was taken. But I’m too distracted by the fact that he seems to know all the people I’ve been horrible to.

  And not just know them—he’s friends with them.

  He stands close enough that I can smell the body wash that does kooky things to my brain. “That was Amber,” he says.

  I smile and nod, doing everything I can to keep my face neutral. “You know people everywhere you go?”

  “Snowboarding’s like a family. We all look out for each other.” He leads me to the door and we step outside. “I haven’t seen her since last season. She was telling me how she broke her leg in the Dash last spring.”

  I remember hearing about that, but at the time it was information that went in one ear and out the other. “But she’s okay to be out here?” The words come out automatically—I’m well-trained to say the right thing at the right time—but I’m surprised to feel something bordering on empathy, especially for someone I treated so cruelly in the past.

  “She’s not allowed to do any jumps, and her air is killer.” A sad look crosses his face, and it strikes me that he’s sacrificing a day of real boarding to help me.

  “This must be torture for you.”

  “What?”

  “Babysitting me instead of really riding.”

  He sets my board on the ground, then crouches to strap in his foot. “A day on the slopes is always better than any other day.”

  I step into the bindings and reach to fasten them at the same time he moves to help me. Neither of us are wearing gloves and when we bump hands, he loops a finger through mine. We both stare at our hands like we’re wondering what happens next. He brushes his thumb over my other fingers, then finishes securing my foot and stands.

  “Want to do the same run or something different?”

  I glance at the mountain behind him. The downside of coming to a new place is I don’t know the runs. At Eldora, I know all the blues and greens and could tell you exactly which run I’d like to try—Snail or Bunnyfair are both super easy, and International is so long you can make it last half an hour—but here, it’s like playing Russian Roulette. “Are you opposed to greens?”

  He thinks for a moment. “I know where we can go. It’s the same chairlift but there’s a green that cuts across the back of the mountain so it’s nice and slow.” His eyelids lower when he says nice and slow and now I’m thinking of other things I’d like to do nice and slow. “That okay?” he asks.

  I nod, unable to speak past t
he breath caught in my throat. I shuffle-hop past him toward the lift and try to clear my head. This boy can hypnotize me with a look and a few words, and I need to stay focused on boarding—not falling for him.

  But a fling wouldn’t be all bad.

  We glide into line and this time I get on the lift without his help. Once in the air, I’m determined to keep my distance, but there’s already been too much incidental touching. He shifts on the cushioned seat and our boards bump, followed by our knees.

  “So what’s your story?” he asks, while the heat from his leg casually crawls up mine like it’s perfectly reasonable for him to be touching me.

  “What do you mean?”

  “What’d you do to get the Chain Gang?”

  While I knew this moment would come, I still haven’t figured out the best way to spin it. So don’t spin it. I take a quick breath and spit it out. “Shoplifting.”

  He turns to look at me like he’s appraising me. “Really.” It’s not a question, and he doesn’t push for more.

  “What about you?” He had to know I’d ask since he asked me, but for the first time today, he looks uncertain.

  “It’s a long story.”

  “So’s mine. One word answer.”

  He breaks eye contact and stares out over the trees. “Fighting.”

  Last time I checked—which admittedly was never, but anyways—you don’t get arrested for fighting unless it’s bad. Like really bad.

  Is he dangerous?

  Was it was stupid to come here where there’s no one else I know? Aside from a couple half-conversations we don’t know each other at all. But nothing about the way he’s behaved makes me nervous, and the only safety I’m worried about is my chastity. Figuratively, of course.

  I bump my shoulder against his. “If it makes you feel better, I was suspended for fighting last year.”

  He bursts out laughing and slaps a glove over his mouth. “Sorry. I didn’t expect you to say that.”

  “True story. But I didn’t get arrested.” I don’t want to ask specifics but he shouldn’t have brought this up if he didn’t want to talk about it.

  “Another time,” he says, his voice so low I almost don’t hear him. We ride the rest of the way in silence and by the time we reach the top I’m nearly crawling out of my skin. Why did I have to push him? The mood from earlier is broken and now it’ll be uncomfortable and oh shit it’s time to get off the lift.

  “Remember, push off once then let the board do the work.”

  “You didn’t say anything about pushing off last time!”

  “That’s because I was helping you. This time you’re doing it solo.”

  As much as I appreciate his unfounded confidence in my abilities, I want more than anything to loop my arm through his and have him help me. It reminds me of the first time Dad took me on the chairlift when I was a kid. I was so scared I was in tears but he made me do it on my own. And I survived.

  So I can do this, too.

  There’s not as much preparation to disembark as there is with skis. You just lift the foot attached to the board and make sure it hits the ground flat. My board hits the snow and I stand, and the chair pushes the back of my legs, guiding me down the ramp. I set my back foot on the board but it gets tangled with the bindings. I break out into a sweat, but I grit my teeth and somehow stay upright. We coast side-by-side to the huge trail map at the backside of the landing area.

  “Way to go!” He holds up his hand for a high-five and it feels a little awkward but I slap it anyways. He points at a trail that winds around the back of the other runs and eventually comes out near another lift. “I was thinking this one.”

  “Nice and slow,” I repeat, and dammit if my tongue doesn’t moisten my lips completely on its own.

  He grins without looking at me and my heart does a little pitter-patter. We move closer to the top of the run and flop unceremoniously onto our butts.

  “I’m gonna need extra cushioning if I do this again.”

  “Those aren’t boarding pants?”

  I run a finger over the seam. “Not specifically. They’re ski pants and they’re waterproof. I figured that’s good enough.”

  “If you decide you like this, you’ll want to find something better.” He fastens his bindings and moves to help me but I brush his hand away. I want to do this on my own. “People are always selling used gear so you shouldn’t have to drop a ton of cash.”

  “Oh. Thanks.” Never in my life has someone suggested I buy something used, especially clothes, and the response that flies to my lips—I can afford to buy whatever the hell I want—is so not appropriate right now. I’m not sure how he came to the conclusion that money’s a problem for me but—

  “I figured that if you were busted shoplifting, maybe money’s tight.”

  Because that would make sense. “It…it’s complicated.”

  “You don’t have to talk about it.”

  I finish strapping in and rock my body forward to stand. “You ready?”

  “You want to lead?” He pops up next to me and brushes snow off his butt. “There’s nothing too tricky on this run, it’s just not super wide.”

  “Um, sure?” My confidence yo-yos with each passing minute. The high from getting off the chairlift unscathed wanes and I stare at the run in front of us with uncertainty.

  He rests his hand on my lower back and I lean into his touch without meaning to. “Take your time and stop when you need to.”

  “Preferably not with my face,” I mutter.

  With a couple hops, my board starts sliding. My arms go out to the sides to help me balance and I slowly point my board downhill, but my speed picks up too fast. I twist so my board’s parallel to the hill and I’m riding on my edge.

  “You’re gonna clear-cut all the snow off the hill,” he shouts from behind me.

  I slow to a stop. “What the hell does that mean?”

  He points at the trees on either side of us. “Like clear-cutting a forest. You’re scraping away all the snow.”

  He’s right. There’s a noticeable path twenty feet up the hill behind me.

  “Take your time with the back and forth. It’s okay if you have to stop a lot.” With a giant hop, he moves in front of me and looks at me over his shoulder. “Do what I do.” He twists and gravity pulls his board across the snow. When he reaches the edge of the tree line, he twists again and stops, then waves for me to follow. “Now you.”

  He makes it look so easy. All this time I’ve been making fun of boarders, it’s actually more difficult than I thought. I lift my front foot to turn my board and start moving. Instinct tells me to slow down, but he’s only another ten feet away. I can do this. I keep my arms out, even when I start going faster than I want, then twist my body to turn the board and stop hard, sending a small spray of snow at Xavier.

  He props his goggles on his helmet and gives me an appraising look. “Is that how it is?”

  I give him a shit-eating grin. “Like I had any control over that.”

  He narrows his eyes at me, but they sparkle in the sunshine. “I’m keeping my eye on you.”

  Please do.

  He puts his goggles back on, then crosses the hill and waits for me again. We do this for what feels like hours, until we reach the end of the run. When I come to a stop next to him he pulls me into his arms. I wasn’t expecting it and our helmets slam together.

  “Woah, sorry,” I say.

  “You did great!” he says.

  I look back at the hill. “Really?”

  He gives me a squeeze then lets go. “You barely fell and you’re still smiling. Totally legit.”

  I try to fight the smile that’s plastered on my face but it’s useless. I did have fun.

  “Ready for more or need a break?”

  “One more then rest?”

  “Sure thing.” We unhook our back feet and do the shuffle-hop that’s really more like riding a skateboard, then we’re back in the air.

  The silence isn’t neces
sarily uncomfortable, but I keep feeling like I should tell him more about the shoplifting. But that will lead to everything else and for once I don’t feel like bragging about my life. Not like Mom and Dad are anything to brag about.

  “You okay?” His voice is soft and I look into his eyes. “You got quiet.”

  I start to reach for his hand but catch myself and tap his leg instead. “Thanks for doing this. I have to tell you, I never in a million years thought I’d go snowboarding.”

  “Why? I mean, besides the edges.” He smiles, and my insides warm.

  “I don’t know. My parents ski and it was never really an option to try anything else.” The weight of everything I leave unsaid hangs between us—or maybe I’m the only one who notices it. I don’t want to mention our family vacations to Europe or the top-of-the-line equipment I get every other year, or the unspoken agreement that the perks only last as long as I stay in line. It’s a good thing I got my season pass to Eldora before my arrest.

  “They pretty hard on you?”

  I shrug. I really don’t want to go down this path. “Yes and no. I have a lot of freedom—at least I did until I got arrested. That didn’t go over so well.”

  He laughs softly. “Yeah, I get that.”

  It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask about his arrest, but part of me doesn’t want to know. What if it’s something really bad? A month ago I’d have sold my 4Runner before talking to someone who’d been arrested, but now the only people who talk to me are my fellow arrestees and I’m realizing there are varying degrees of breaking the law. But he may have done something unforgiveable, and then where will that leave us?

  Exiting the chairlift goes about the same as the last time—minor squealing from me but I don’t fall—and we take the same run, except this time I lead. At one point I stop near a break in the trees where you can see the valley below, and Xavier stops close behind me.

  “This is my favorite part about this run,” he says.

  “I didn’t think this was a run you normally take. I thought you were just slumming with the newbie.” I laugh, but my words fall flat. He may not know the economic status of my family, but he doesn’t seem to be from money and throwing around the term slumming probably doesn’t sit well.